Taste the Orange (THIS ARTICLE STILL IN PROCESS)

By Matthew Stein, P.E., Author of When Technology Fails: A Manual for Self-Reliance and Planetary Survival, ISBN #978-1933392837, published by Chelsea Green Publishing, White River Junction, VT (800) 639-4099 http://www.chelseagreen.com

We all know what an orange tastes like, don’t we? Sure, some oranges will be sweeter than others, and some will be more tart, or more pungent, but the essence of “Orange Taste” is firmly embedded in the minds of all who have ever had the experience of tasting an orange.

Now that we have established that we all know what an orange tastes like, how would you describe “Orange Taste” to another person? Let us take this mental exercise one step further. Imagine that this person is a Barren Land Eskimo, who grew up in an isolated nomadic Eskimo culture, never having tasted a sweet treat in his life, much less a piece of fruit. According to Farley Mowat, in People of the Deer, the inland Eskimo’s idea of a delicious desert is a mold-marbled, blue-green piece of meat and fat that has been buried in the ground and aged, tasting much like a piece of smelly cheese. How would you start to describe “Orange Taste” to someone whose entire scope of experience includes no sweets and nothing remotely approaching the pungent combination of sweet, fruity, somewhat acidic flavor, that is a common to all citrus fruits?

Now you have an understanding of the difficulty that great spiritual masters, like Jesus and Buddha, had in trying to convey deep spiritual concepts, such as enlightenment and spiritual healing, to people who had not yet experienced these depths themselves. Words are simply abstract symbols to convey concepts amongst humans. “Tree” may not mean much to a Saharan Desert dweller who had never seen a tree in his life. Show him a picture and describe it to him and the concept of a tree may begin to take on some meaning. Let him climb in a tree, and it will take on a much deeper significance. Jesus spoke in parables so that he might convey spiritual concepts to his audience at whatever level of spiritual understanding they were able to comprehend. Even his disciples, who were far more advanced spiritually than most of the others in his audience, were often confused by his words and asked him privately to explain the meanings of these parables.

When I was a child, I remember having brief flashes of understanding and paranormal experiences, but these experiences were momentary and fleeting. For the most part, I associated spirituality with being bored while attending my grandmother’s church or my parent’s synagogue. I was brought up with a mixture of my parent’s Jewish customs, which were loosely based upon following a few traditions and rituals, and my grand mother’s strong Christian faith, which she did not wish to force on her grand children, but obviously believed in quite strongly herself. For a period of about two years after my Bar Mitzvah at age 13, I tried to be a “good Jew” and study those subjects in Hebrew school that I had previously detested and avoided. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I was more interested in “truth” (whatever that may be) than in learning rituals and traditions, or practicing ancient Hebrew that held little meaning for me. I gave up on trying to be a better Jew, but at this time Christianity also held little appeal. I had grown up in Northern Vermont, in a predominantly Christian community, and people were always trying to “save my soul” and jam Jesus done my throat. Routinely I would be subject to comments such as, “Do you believe in Jesus Christ? If you don’t, you will burn in hell forever.” I had no desire to take part in a religion that appeared, at first glance, to be cruel and judgmental to those of differing belief.

And so began a period of non-spirituality, where I immersed myself in to my studies of science and engineering, believing in what I call “The Billiard Ball Theory of the Universe”. I believed that all of the actions of the universe could be explained by action-and-reaction, chemistry and biochemistry, that a great computer could figure it all out, like the physical reactions of billiard balls rebounding off each other on a pool table. It seemed to me that my life was like a candle, which burned only once, and when it was gone my being would no longer exist. As bizarre as it may seem, all this was to change through a series of direct spiritual experiences (“Tasting the Orange”) that started while I was a freshman at MIT, and have continued on to this day.

I cannot expect another to accept any of my beliefs based solely upon my stories and opinions. I encourage all who seek the truth to take the journey of their own “Orange Tasting”, to undertake your personal journey of spiritual awakening, in whatever form that may be.

(TO BE CONTINUED. THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS)